The Emerald Courtier
by Periodic
Summary: The court of Gondor is an arena of treachery and lust. With rumours of the returning king spreading the nobility have begun to divide their loyalties in a desperate bid for survival, and for Denethor's favoured mistress one mistake could mean death.PLZR
1. The Price to Pay

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, Aurelia and other original characters are mine.

A quick note, I'm desperately looking for a beta reader to look over grammar, plot and character developments, so if anyone's interested please please let me know. I'd much appreciate the help :) Hope you enjoy the story; it touches on aspects from both the books and the movies (probably more from the movies though since it's been ages and a day since I've read the books), although it is largely AU, where Legolas and Gimli take Pippin to Minas Tirith, and Gandalf goes with Aragorn. Updates will be hopefully kept on a regular weekly schedule, and if you have any comments or criticisms please review!

Thanks!

-Periodic

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_**The Emerald Courtier**_

**Chapter One: The Price to Pay**

"_**Behold the fishnet slut tonight  
Hustle Rose goes from limb to limb  
Fingertip to painted lip she sways her way up to him"**_

_**Metric – "Hustle Rose"**_

His breath was the putrid breath of decay. His eyes, half closed, were empty and cold: long tunnels of endless madness that drew you in. You could lose yourself in those crazed eyes, but she had learnt long ago to look away. His fumbling hands were clammy against her skin, as if every trace of the man had been replaced with ice; as if it wasn't a man who thrust himself upon her now but an animal, a demon, a brute of sagging muscle and fat.

For the most part she did what was required of her, knowing that while this man still held the title of Steward her place of nobility would be in question.

He groaned once, his aged body shuddering before he rolled off of her.

"You may go," he dismissed with a lazy wave of his hand.

She slipped from the bed without a word and pulled her robe quickly over thin shoulders.

"My Lord," turning she curtsied low, bowing her head. She backed from the room, pausing at the door to draw her hood over her tousled brown curls.

Out in the hall she closed the door softly behind her, careful to pay no attention to the guards as they in turn pretended she did not exist.

"My Lady, did you speak with Lord Denethor?" A smooth voice spoke suddenly and she jumped, spinning quickly to see a man watching her. No, not a man, but an elf.

Recovering from her surprise, she lifted her chin and straightened her posture, letting formality take over. "Yes, but I am afraid he will see no one at the moment." She replied coolly and made to move past him.

"Wait," He shifted and blocked her exit. "This is a matter of the utmost urgency."

"I'm sorry sir, but I am a noblewoman. Matters of the utmost urgency do not concern me." She lifted her gaze to his and let an icy, polite smile decorate her lips. "If you will please excuse me-"

A hand gripped her arm suddenly, cutting off her words. "Are you in the habit of visiting the steward without footwear, my Lady?" His words were low so that the guards would not overhear, even so she froze suddenly.

"You will release me at once sir." She hissed in return, and was satisfied when the shifting movement from the guards behind caused him to loosen his severe hold. She jerked her arm from his grasp and with her head held high strode past him. Unfortunately he turned and followed her, falling easily into step.

"Is there something you require, Master Elf?"

"Only an explanation for why the Steward of Gondor would see yourself and not the people sent by his future king." He said this nonchalantly, not once breaking stride. She, however, faltered in step, hesitating a moment before evading the comment about kingship.

"My Lord likes companionship; these are trying times."

"And you provide it for him?" He asked, unable to hide the incredulity in his voice.

"You judge me." One look at the cool disdain on his beautifully pale features was answer enough. She kept her own face carefully free of emotion, while chuckling lightly.

"Ah, it has been so long since I have spoken with someone outside the court. Minas Tirith is a proud city, full of proud, moral people who live by their principles as I see you do. It is truly commendable. As a noble it is rare to see morals practiced and I do not mean as a means to manipulate ones façade and social standing." She paused for a moment to tap a finger lightly against her full lips as she glanced at him sidelong. "However, I hope you will forgive me when I suggest that you are perhaps a bit rash in your condemning me. Really, such a verdict is almost, dare I say, illogical. After all, you do not know me else you would have called me by name. You do not care for me else you would have requested why I go to the Steward. You do not understand the pain that has engulfed this city else you would find another, more appropriate means of attaining council with My Lord, rather than accosting me. Since you have done none of these things, I'm afraid I am forced to conclude that you have no true just cause or reason to behave as you do. In which case I must respectfully ask you to refrain from any prior judgment of myself Master Elf, however righteous it may be, or else risk crossing into noble politics - and if I may be so bold; it is not the place for the faint hearted." She flashed him her dazzling courtier smile and swept past him in a flurry of rustling silk and sashaying hips. Moving over to an oaken door she produced a key from the pocket of her robe and made to unlock her chamber door.

"I fight for this city." The furious voice stopped her, and turning she caught the angry glint in his eyes. "When the orcs come from Osgiliath, I will fight for this city. The king will fight for his city."

"Perhaps it shall never come to that," She replied blandly. "My Lord Faramir is well trained in battle, perhaps Osgiliath will be recaptured, and we will have no need for your mythical king."

"The king has returned: he is no longer a myth!"

She kept silent for a moment, watching for any betrayal that this was in fact a lie. To believe such a thing, to hope for such a thing- she had heard rumors of course, but never anything more substantial. And that was what it came down to, one more person – elf, rather – informing her that the rightful king was back to claim his long waiting thrown could no more be claimed as evidence than the eager whisperings amongst the desperate nobility.

"I must retire-"

"You do believe me, don't you? You do understand what that means."

"What I do not understand is why you continue to pester me so. Unless," She arched a brow, "You yourself seek companionship?"

His face twisted in disgust and he quickly stepped back from her as if she were unclean. A shameful blush coloured her dark cheeks but she tilted her chin up challengingly and held his gaze until he looked away.

"I apologize my Lady; I did not mean to give the wrong impression. I will take my leave." With a curt bow he brusquely moved out of sight and with a sigh she entered her chamber.

Shutting the door and leaning against it she heaved another sigh and closed her eyes. Her long fingers curled into fists, her nails biting deep into the palms of her hands as her throat burned fiercely. Her stomach churned and heaved and she swallowed rapidly, gulping at the air to fight the swell of bile. A dark hatred ate at her, gnawing on her very soul until there was nothing left in her but a gaping chasm of sorrow and loathing.

She swiped angrily at the tears that splashed down her cheeks, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as if to push back the sad drops.

"Stop it," She ordered herself firmly in a language that differed from the one she had used to speak with the elf. Indeed, it would have been incomprehensible to any dweller of Middle-Earth.

Without looking she locked her door and pocketed the key, moving over to the window that overlooked Gondor's wonderful gardens. She had the greatest view of all the rooms, save the Steward's of course who had taken the king's chambers. This was one of the many perks to being Denethor's favoured mistress, and it was this view that she used to remind herself why she must stay in that circle of favour.

She turned from the window and crept to her expansive bed, slinking beneath the finely woven covers. She hid her face in the downy pillows and hugged her knees to her chest, allowing thoughts of the true king of Gondor lull her into a sense of peace.


	2. The Snake in the Rose Bush

Beginning Note: Thanks for everyone who read the first chapter and to those who favourited and alerted the story!! A few things that I forgot to mention in the beginning: The Emerald Courtier is a short story, probably spanning about 8 chapters and takes place over the period of three to four days. Because of this the story is set at a faster pace.

I have written most of the chapters, but I would love to hear your feedback, whether you love it or hate it. I'm constantly rereading and editing to see what can be improved and where, so if you have any comments, encouragement or constructive criticism please let me know. And just because the chapters are written doesn't mean the story can't change DRASTICALLY! Just something to keep in mind :P

Also, I'm still looking for a beta reader so if anyone's interested let me know :)

Enjoy!

-Periodic

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**Chapter Two: The Snake in the Rose Bush**

"_**Hold on hold tight,  
Make it through another night,  
And everyday there comes a song with the dawn"**_

_**Mat Kearney – "Breathe In, Breathe Out"**_

Legolas entered the chambers that had been secured for Gimli, Pippin and himself, shutting the heavy door behind him.

"Ah, ye're back. Pippin brought tobacco to share. It seems being in the Steward's service gives a few perks after all." Gimli greeted his friend with a laugh though it trailed away when he saw the quiet fury on Legolas' face.

"What's happened?" Pippin stood up from his seat, small face drawn. It was a test to the times in which they lived that his once smiling, cheery face could now hold such worry and angst.

"What keeps Aragorn from coming?" Legolas asked softly.

"Gandalf said they were to seek out the Dead Men of Dunharrow. I would think it would be no small feat."

"If he does not arrive in Minas Tirith before the orcs attack Gondor will fall; already man's hope is wasting. We must force council with Denethor, he must recognize Aragorn as king when he arrives." Legolas strode up and down the room and his friends watched him.

"If we don't succeed in convincin' Denethor Gandalf'll be knockin' down his door and forcin' him to recognize Aragorn as king." Gimli shrugged and scratched at his beard. "Is that all that bothers you?"

"Yes…no…I met someone today."

"Oh?"

"A female."

"An elf-maid? Ha! Ye lucky scoundrel, if only Gondor would reveal their dwarven women as readily they do the elves!"

"No, no not an elf. A human."

Silence followed this statement, along with raised eyebrows and a quick shared glance between Gimli and Pippin.

"Well, this is a surprise," Pippin managed at last and the two grinned.

"You're rogues, the pair of you. It's not meant like that." Legolas paused a moment, deep in thought before turning to his friends. "Didn't Boromir speak of a woman at one time?"

"Ha! At one time? At all times! 'Never a more striking and exotic maiden – though she never said where she was from. Dark, golden skin and big green eyes near the colour of my cloak. No, no, that's to plain; eyes like emeralds! Yes, the most beautiful emeralds. And her hair was never worn in the current fashions, but left long and wild, not quite black, but the dark brown of mud or dirt…only prettier!'" Gimli broke off with a laugh, touching a knuckle to his brow. "Bless him; Boromir was a great soldier, but no poet."

Legolas stopped pacing, frowning thoughtfully. "Then I am sure. It was this woman that I met."

"Valar help us, not you too!" Gimli laughed, "If ye start spoutin' horrid poetry I'm off."

Legolas glared half-heartedly at his friend who only laughed harder.

"Hang on; I think I know who you're talking about!" Pippin spoke up suddenly, eyes wide. "That's Lady Aurelia."

"Aurelia?" Legolas turned quickly and Pippin nodded eagerly.

"It must be, there's only one woman who fits that description and it's her. She was a lesser noble but Denethor gave her a new title and land. She's uh…they're um…" Pippin stuttered to a halt and only continued when Legolas and Gimli urged him to do so. "Nobody really knows where she came from. Some say the South, but it's all speculation. Some say she's not really a noblewoman at all but a commoner Denethor took a fancy too. She's easily the most beautiful woman at court, except for Lady Gilraen who was Denethor's first mistress but…she was expelled from court for slander."

"Slander? Against who?"

Pippin shrugged. "Against no one really, it was never proven. Apparently she was heard talking of Aragorn's 'imminent' return, and Denethor thought it close to treason. I hear he wanted her executed but Lady Gilraen fled before her arrest."

Legolas nodded grimly as he continued to pace. That would explain why Aurelia had been reluctant to speak of Aragorn when Legolas had mentioned him. "Who overheard Lady Gilraen?"

"No one knows that either. I'd put money on it being Lady Aurelia though. Her and Lady Gilraen never got on, and it's rumoured that near the end Denethor stopped calling on Gilraen in favour of Aurelia."

Gimli snorted. "Sounds like she's more trouble'n she's worth." He stood up to clap his friend on the arm. "Come on, it's late. Let's get us a drink and then to bed."

* * *

Legolas woke suddenly, restless and agitated. He glanced over at his snoring companions, envious of Gimli and Pippin's sound sleep. Legolas himself had slept fitfully, catching only a few hours of sleep at best. He'd dreamt of sullen faced children, watching from the shadows of alleyways as a light in Gondor's main street flickered and died. Their shrill, animal like wails filled the air with the falling darkness, and he knew them to be slaughtering each other over the remaining scraps of light.

Shuddering, Legolas rose and dressed, quietly slipping from the room to pad through the halls and out into the vast courtyard. It was still dark outside though the paling sky told him it was a few hours till sunrise.

He wandered the gardens aimlessly lost in thoughts of Aragorn's return, and what it would mean to the people of Gondor. Rounding a corner he stopped at the sight of a woman seated on one of the many stone benches strewn about the garden.

"Excuse me, my Lady; I did not know anyone else rose at this hour."

"Master Elf, we seem to run into each other at odd hours often. Could it be I have a stalker?"

His head jerked up from the bow he'd made, and in the lifting gloom he saw the unmistakable dusky face and haunting green eyes.

"Lady Aurelia." He greeted, straightening quickly and giving a curt nod.

"Ah, so you learnt my name," She leveled him with a cool gaze, but the corners of her lips twitched. "That hardly seems fair, as I do not know yours."

He paused a moment and then with a slight inclination of his head: "Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood." He was mildly surprised when Aurelia rose from her seat and curtsied deeply, her gown fluttering in a practiced and smooth gesture.

"Of course, it is a fitting name for a prince." She rose just as smoothly and cocked her head to the side, a smile tugging at her lips. "Won't you join me, dear prince?"

Legolas hesitated for a moment, torn between making a quick retreat, and passing the otherwise long hours in her company.

"Aurelia is an interesting name," He submitted at last, moving over to join her on the bench. "Foreign is it not?"

"It is."

"May I ask where from?"

With this she tilted her head back and gave a silvery laugh. "You may! Dear prince, you may ask until you run out of breath, but I may not answer." She chuckled again and cast an amused glance his way. "Maybe you can tell me what the fascination is with a person's heritage. It seems I am asked this question at least twice a day." Her voice rolled and lilted over certain syllables while emphasizing others in a peculiar yet pleasing manner.

Legolas cleared his throat and spoke carefully, "I would think that many people believe they are who they are simply because of where they have come from. History and bloodlines influence what we are to grow into."

Aurelia seemed to consider this idea for a moment before shaking her head slightly and waving an elegant hand in the air. "Then think of me as no one from nowhere, who became Lady Aurelia of Gondor from nothing."

Legolas joined in with her brief laughter, "You seem to be in a good mood this morning." He said somewhat dryly, and while she appeared to recognize his tone, she smiled serenely in response.

"I am," She said simply. "I love the morning; coming out here where it is quiet and peaceful, and watching the sun rise. There is nothing more beautiful than the end of the night and the beginning of the day." Aurelia turned to face the horizon, tilting her head back slightly as if in acceptance of the coming rays and letting her eyes close slowly.

He watched the rising sun light up her bronze skin and whether she had intended it or not, he saw the tension from the night before leave, as if with every breath drawn she released her sorrows. He realized with a start that this was her way of escaping the fear that prevailed in the city, and at once felt bashful and awkward as if he were privy to something intimately private.

"Lady Aurelia, you will see the rightful king return to Gondor. I will make sure of it." His voice was low but intent, even fierce with conviction.

"Do not speak of such things, dear prince. This is not the place for politics."

"Things could be better for you, if you would just believe me. There is hope!"

"Where is he now?" The sharp question caught Legolas off guard as she had not moved nor opened her eyes. "This king, this banisher of despair; this bringer of hope. Where is he?"

"He comes by ship, even as we speak. Word was sent to me by messenger bird that Aragorn commandeered the Corsairs of Umbar's ships and sails to Minas Tirith!" He saw that against her better judgment her interest had been sparked.

"Did he? How did he manage such a feat?" Aurelia asked, at last turning to him and Legolas hesitated for a moment.

"There was an army of long ago, the Dead Men of Dunharrow, cursed to never pass into the afterlife until released by Isildur's heir. Aragorn had them fight at Pelargir and drive away the Corsairs-"He broke off as she laughed out loud. "What is it that amuses you, my lady?" He asked rather coldly but she only continued to giggle.

"Oh I am glad you joined me this morning, dear prince, I always did love ghost stories." Her patronizing amusement annoyed Legolas and he felt a determination to convince her.

"He will come."

"With his ghosts?"

"Yes! …Well, maybe not," He admitted on further thought, feeling foolish. "I believe he released them." Aurelia slowly grew somber, the tension that had been eased by the sunrise returning to stiffen her shoulders with each passing word.

"He will not come in time," She murmured, her soft voice bleak. "And if he does what will be left for him? A broken city ravaged and stricken by constant battle, its people starving and poor, it's Steward unwilling to release his rule. Suppose he sees what he is to inherit and thinks better of it?"

Legolas reached out to put his hand over hers. "I know Aragorn, and he would never do such a thing. Have faith Lady Aurelia."

She looked up and smiled a naked, shaking smile that was at once fearful and determined to hope. "Dear prince, I am glad you joined me," She said again with soft sincerity. "I would appreciate it if you told no one of this spot. I would hate to have it spoiled." Her gaze dropped for a moment and then lifted back to meet his.

He stood as she rose from the seat, nodding grimly. "No one will hear of it from me," He promised and she smiled in return.

"I will hold you too your word. Good day Prince Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood."

"Good day Lady Aurelia." He turned in the opposite direction and began to make his way out of the garden, more than a little confused by their bizarre encounter. Where on their first meeting Legolas had found her infuriating, and again today had been frustrated by her, he had found a charm to her rare earnest smiles and penetrating stares. In this tucked away corner, under dawn's tentative light, she made it easy to forget her discretions, appearing vulnerable and fragile. Legolas had only to think of Lady Gilraen to know this to be a lie. The woman was vile. A snake. Treachery was her true love and ambition her bed fellow. He marveled at her duplicity, those smiles he had taken for sincerity were likely masked smirks; that sweet laugh a taunting cackle, and he cursed himself for trying once again to sway her to the truth of Aragorn's return. If Legolas wasn't careful Gimli, Pippin and he could end up following closely in Lady Gilraen's footsteps.

The image of her sorrowful green eyes caused his assurance to falter. There had been no lie in that intent gaze, but then why had she supposedly lowered her guard if not to trick him? And to what end?

Legolas sighed and shook his head. Better to be wary of her than to naively believe in the purity of women.

Perhaps Gimli had been right: she was trouble, and likely more than her worth.

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"The purity of women" is an indirect quote to Sigmund Freud who stated that the "two greatest fallacies are the belief in the innocence of children and the purity of women". I forget how the exact quote goes, but it's somewhere along those lines. There are other allusions in this chapter as well, but this was the most obscure one that I felt needed mentioning…especially since I'm not even sure of the quote's precise wording lol.


	3. The Monstrous Nobility

Thanks to the people who reviewed last chapter, and again I beg everyone to please R&R! It helps me know what works and what doesn't, and it keeps the inspiration for this story up so that it's more likely to be completed. That being said here's chapter three and I hope you like it!

Enjoy!

-Periodic

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**Chapter Three: The Monstrous Nobility**

"_**She took a hike it don't matter if I like it or not  
Because she only wants the wrong way  
I gave her all that I had to give  
But she still wouldn't take it, oh no**__**"**_

_**Sublime – "The Wrong Way"**_

Aurelia watched her reflection soberly while her maid, Lhoseth, arranged her gown and attempted to calm her wild curls. She studied her face, knowing it to be a pretty one: her skin smooth and coloured, accenting the green depths of her eyes; her mouth full and red without the paint that many noblewomen slathered on; her forehead proud and chin stubborn. But in all this Aurelia could see that her features, while striking, were etched from granite. Her eyes were cold, her mouth turned down at the corners, her brow slightly puckered in disfavor, and she sighed inwardly thinking back to an earlier time when she had laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks; when the concept of nobility was thought of in a historical sense, and when she had never heard of Gondor and its troubles.

"Lhoseth, do you think the king will return?" Aurelia spoke calmly as if this was a matter-of-fact question, but her eyes studied her maid's suddenly guarded reflection.

"I wouldn't know my lady; such things are beyond me," Lhoseth replied warily.

"Oh come now, I'm sure you must have heard something. There's been such wild chatter these days, I only wish to hear the truth," Aurelia favoured her maid with a gentle smile, letting her features soften and grow kindly. "I know that I can trust you above all others Lhoseth, you are so dear to me. Like a sister really."

Lhoseth ducked her head humbly, her weary face lined with age softening slightly and blushing. "My lady is too kind." She hesitated for a moment and then lifted her brown eyes to Aurelia's, an eagerness to gossip flickering in her gaze. "I did hear one thing my lady that might interest ye. The man's name is Aragorn and he comes here by ships commandeered from those Corsair rogues and by an army of ghosts no less." Lhoseth spoke in a low whisper, excitement and nerves making her voice quick and breathy while her eyes darted from Aurelia to the door as if she worried one of Denethor's spies might be lingering outside with his ear pressed against the wood.

"Hmm, is that all the news you have?"

"Yes, my lady, that is all."

"It is curious…" Aurelia studied her reflection for a moment longer before turning and taking hold of her maid's bony hands. "Now we must speak of this to no one, agreed? Not a word, not even to your dear husband."

"Oh no, of course not my lady," Lhoseth hurriedly agreed and Aurelia nodded once, dropping her hands.

"Good, now I shall go to dinner and then likely retire for the night." They both knew what that meant.

"My-my lady?" Lhoseth hesitated for a moment, clearly afraid to continue but determined to voice whatever it was that bothered her. "If I may be so bold, I have a request about…about my son, Gemion. Oh my lady, I wouldn't dare ask but I'm desperate, see? And ye did say we were like sisters jus' now. Well, he's sick my lady, my poor boy is sick, and getting sicker yet, but we can't afford any healer, and our last coin goes towards food for the new babe-"

"What is your point Lhoseth?" Aurelia cut across her smoothly, her focus kept on the rings that she slid onto her long fingers.

"Only if there were a way he could be treated my lady, just-just a second of any healer's time would be grand, I'm sure. And we – _I _– would be ever so grateful." She dropped a deep curtsy, one that was meant for royalty. In her haste to speak her words had grown more common and course.

"What would you have me do?" Aurelia asked quietly, turning to look at her maid. "Sneak him in to see the royal healer? Commission someone to enter the slums? No, no, even you realize that would be too difficult. Is it money you seek? Ah, I see we have come to the true point now. No, Lhoseth, I am sorry but I feel this is a family matter of which I have no business interfering."

"But my lady he's diein'. I can see it now; he's on death's doorstep!"

"That is no concern of mine," Aurelia snapped and Lhoseth took a step back, her head dropping with the rebuke. A heavy silence hung in the air and Aurelia sighed lightly, moving over to place a hand on her maid's shoulder. "I am truly sorry Lhoseth, there is nothing I can do. Go now; be with your family, I do not require your services this evening."

Two red splotches coloured Lhoseth's pale face but she nodded all the same, dipping a quick curtsy and mumbling, "Thank you Lady Aurelia," before hurrying from the room.

Aurelia stood in the silence that was left, breathing hard through her nose. Her green eyes were flinty and her jaw clenched, but all the anger seemed to drain from her suddenly and her shoulders slumped. Aurelia turned pained eyes to the ceiling and moaned lowly, "Oh, Mama if you could see me now."

* * *

Aurelia, among the first nobles to arrive at the great dining hall, took her regular seat far from Denethor's. When she had first become his mistress she had thought that she would immediately be placed at his left or right side for meals, but it seemed that Denethor liked only the company of men during the day and women's at night. At first this had worried her, but she had quickly come to realize it was an advantage for her placement kept him in her eye and her in his. Truly she benefited the most as this meant that she could laugh charmingly, chat gracefully and smile winsomely for him to see, thus keeping him attached while never having to suffer his company.

Aurelia glanced curiously at the two extra seats placed beside her and she looked up in time to see Legolas enter the hall, and beside him a dwarf. She watched the two make their way over and figured at once that they had already been informed of their seating.

She smiled and inclined her head to them both, "Good evening Prince Legolas. I see you bring a friend with you this evening."

"Lady Aurelia," Legolas greeted in turn and then gestured to the dwarf, "May I introduce Gimli son of Glóin."

"A pleasure," Aurelia murmured demurely.

"The pleasure's mine, but if ye'll excuse me I hate to stand on ceremony," Gimli said with a nod of his head before sitting down and taking out his pipe. "Tell me lass, will Denethor behead me if I smoke in his hall?"

Aurelia starred for a moment before laughing aloud. "Oh, you are bold Master Dwarf."

"Thank ye," He said with a twinkle in his eye and merrily begin stuffing his pipe.

"If I might also be bold and ask what brings the two of you to my lord's table this evening?" Aurelia asked. Gimli snorted rudely but it was Legolas who answered while taking his seat.

"Denthor is being diplomatic: Gimli is part of the Dwarven royal line, and my own heritage is royal. Though I suspect Denthor wants to keep us close for a number of reasons."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Aurelia murmured quietly as more nobles began to enter the hall and take their seats, shortly followed by the Steward himself. Aurelia's courtly smile was carefully put into place and the dinner began. Light chatter filled the dining hall, easy subjects like dance and recently read novels were explored in depth. When Gimli or Legolas attempted to bring up the battle of Pelennor Fields, or why Faramir had been sent back to Osgilaith Aurelia would artfully steer the conversation in a different direction, her courtly smile becoming more pronounced.

"At least we stand a chance now," Gimli interjected at one point. "With the beacons lit, Rohan'll be knockin' at these gates in no time."

Aurelia gave a tinkling laugh and brought her napkin to her numb lips. Dear God, if anyone overheard that statement they were as good as dead. Her sharp gaze flickered over the elf and dwarf – well, they would be arrested for sure, and Aurelia's reputation might be questioned, but she would be damned if she would be dragged down with their stupidity.

"Oh what gallant bravado - I haven't encountered such a display in some time. It reminds me of a young suitor who once tried to court me. Poor dear, he had more brawn than brain…and even then he could barely swing a sword." She gave a small titter behind her napkin and the eavesdropping nobles chuckled in response; remembering their youth they began recounting the many frivolities they had partaken in. Under the pretense of gossip, Aurelia leaned towards Legolas and Gimli, murmuring quietly, "such talk suggests you wish for an early death. I cannot save you from these bloodhounds if you cast about so foolishly, nor will I do so if I sense my own demise." She paused to let her words sink in, her playful smile not reaching her grave eyes. "Now I suggest we pretend I've said something terribly witty, laugh, and forget this matter." She held their stares for a moment before smiling widely and giving a pretty laugh, which they joined in with hesitantly.

When the dinner was finished Denethor immediately rose from his seat to leave the hall, a small gaggle of nobles following after him. Aurelia watched them go before turning back to Legolas and Gimli and bowing her head slightly.

"If you will excuse me, I think I too will take my leave. It was lovely to meet you Gimli." Aurelia stood from her seat and Legolas and Gimli stood with her.

"Allow me to walk with you?" Legolas asked, and she arched a brow as he offered his arm like a Gondorian knight would.

"Of course," She said after a moment, and smiling gracefully took his arm.

They moved out of the dining area and down the great halls, making their way to the courtyard and then into the gardens. It seemed Legolas knew this to be a favourite place of hers. They had walked in silence for several minutes and Aurelia was about to ask if something was on his mind when the elf spoke up at last.

"I understand Denethor has taken the news of his son's passing badly."

"Yes, Lord Boromir was my lord's favourite," Aurelia said slowly, waiting to see where this topic of conversation would lead. Several long seconds passed before Legolas thought to continue.

"I traveled with him and others from Rivendell. He was a good man: brave, and proud."

"Yes."

"He spoke of a woman."

Aurelia hesitated. "I am sure the ladies of the court would be excited to hear this, he was a favourite among many of them also."

"You misheard me; I don't mean women, but one individual." Legolas paused and Aurelia looked up to see him watching her.

"She was likely only mentioned in passing," Aurelia murmured.

"On the contrary, he spoke of her day and night. 'A woman like no other,' he said. 'Not fair but dark, with brilliant green eyes that pierced the soul and an uplifting smile. Oh, but the temper this woman possessed, and the passion with which she would throw herself into these fits.'" Legolas chuckled and Aurelia found herself smiling. "'I would never seek to contain such a fiery spirit,' he would say. 'Merely watch this noble, wild creature burn brighter than any I have ever seen, and hope that one day I might be worthy to see her glance my way.'"

Aurelia chuckled gently, giving a soft shake of her head as Legolas continued.

"We would ask him for her name and he would laugh. 'Only a unique name for one as unique as she,' he would say. 'This dark beauty, this green-eyed wildcat: Aurelia.'"

They came to a halt and she brought a hand to her trembling lips.

"Boromir was a dear friend," She said at last, letting her hand fall away as she slowly regained control of her emotions. "Denethor is not the only one who has found his death hard to overcome."

Legolas reached out to comfort her but she jerked away from his touch, afraid that its gentleness would cause the unshed tears to fall. She quickly turned from him, and took a shuddering breath, blinking back the tears. Movement along the garden paths caught her eye and she was immensely glad for the distraction.

"One of Lord Denethor's men approaches," She said. Her relief quickly turned to dread as the reality of her situation reminded her why he would seek her out. "You must leave." She turned back to Legolas quickly, hissing under her breath.

He was taken aback by her abrupt change of demeanor and worriedly drew closer. "Why? What-"

"Go. Go now, I don't want you here."

"Tell me why and I'll-"

"Excuse me Prince Legolas, Lady Aurelia, I do not mean to interrupt." The messenger bowed shortly to them both. "Lady Aurelia, I am sent to inform you that my Lord Denethor has matters which require your presence this night."

Aurelia had grown rigid and icy as the man spoke, inclining her head coolly as he finished.

"Tell my lord I shall see him shortly," She responded and the man bowed quickly again.

"Very good my lady." He hurried off, leaving a tense silence between the two.

Aurelia, having gathered herself together while the messenger retreated, turned to Legolas with her empty courtier's smile but he gripped her arm, a fierce expression on his face.

"Don't go to him." He said lowly, but she shook her head and tried to pull her arm free.

"I must."

"You must do nothing!"

"You're wrong. This is what is required of me; this is what I must do to keep my place."

"Then leave!"

"And go where? To the slums? They'll be the first hit when Sauron's army comes."

"Then you will stay with me until we find better arrangements. Aurelia, do not do this." They stood close, glaring at each other, their breaths coming in short bursts. Aurelia's dark cheeks burned with shame and anger: outraged that she was being judged and furious because she knew he was right. But how dare he treat her so! He didn't know what she was capable of; she could handle this.

Aurelia was suddenly reminded of Boromir and how he used to react to her former suitors, and the thought cooled her short temper. She stilled and laid a hand on Legolas' cheek, her tanned skin made to look darker against his own fair complexion.

"Oh my dear Prince, such human emotions," She murmured softly. "I told you before court is no place for the noble. It turns us into such monsters. Do you think I do not see what I have become? Well, I can accept my fate so long as it is at my own hands. No, listen. I need nothing from you. If I have to do this one act to get what I need then so be it." Her hand moved to gently remove his hand from her arm and this time he let her. "If you so desperately wish to help me then find the household of my maid, Lhoseth, and treat her ill son. Only do not tell them you came from me."

She backed away a few paces and turned to go.

"A woman of passion," Legolas said, his words twisting bitterly, "a laughing, kind, wild, uncontrollable woman of passion. A fiery, noble creature- _noble _Aurelia! Where is that spirit that Boromir described?"

"That was a different time, a different Aurelia," She said softly and he stiffened.

"It must have been. The Aurelia Boromir described was no noblewoman concerned with titles and land but a poor maiden, probably no more than a seamstress."

The courtier's mask crumbled for a moment as she turned back to him and fear flashed across her face. She thought to fly at him, to yell and tell him to mind his own goddamn business; she'd worked too hard, lost too much to have everything taken away now. But then she took a slow breath and let the empty smile touch her lips again, her green eyes growing cold and hard.

"That is quite a coincidence indeed. Good evening Prince Legolas."She curtsied daintily and left him there, gracefully making her way to her chambers to prepare for her night with the Steward.


	4. Come What May

Thanks again to the people who reviewed, favourited and alerted this story! I very much appreciate the gesture! Just a quick note, I've changed the rating of the story to M for this chapter.

Hope you enjoy!

-Periodic

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**Chapter Four: Come What May**

"_**His eyes upon your face  
His hand upon your hand  
His lips caress your skin  
It's more than I can stand"**_

_**Ewan McGregor – "El Tango De Roxanne"**_

Legolas found Gimli and Pippin in the tavern immediately after Aurelia had left him in the gardens. He considered for a moment upturning a table and picking a fight with one of the many gloomy patrons, but instead slid quietly onto the stool beside his friends. Little good his quiet entrance did him, he may as well have caused a scene for Gimli seemed to notice his friend's upset immediately.

"She's not a lass free for courtin'," he said bluntly, taking a swig of ale.

"I'm not looking to court her."

"No? Then why is she the one that throws you into these fits? I've known you to be a calm elf, not an angry one."

"It's not her that makes me angry, it's what she does," Legolas growled, and Gimli set down his tankard to watch his friend. "I have seen many years, known the corruption of court life, but this I find to…to horrific."

"Why?"

"Why?" Legolas turned to Gimli, his face twisted with incredulity and disgust. "Because it is wrong! It is the defilement of a sacred act – one meant to signify love and unity, but here is the acquirement of worldly goods and social stability. Because Denethor uses his people, uses her. Because she thinks she is protecting herself when there's another way. Because…because…"

"Because you care for her," Gimli finished and Legolas threw up his arms, shaking his head.

"I do not care for her," he said firmly. "I only think that as Boromir's friends we should look after those he cared for."

"Boromir cared for his father."

"Yes, well, he hasn't spoken to him recently has he?"

Gimli laughed and clapped Legolas on the shoulder, pausing to drain his tankard. "It's an ugly business, but there's not a thing you can do. Come on and have a drink with us then. Oi! Barkeep, or whatever the devil it is humans call you people. Aye, you, my friends and I will have another tankard of ale - only your finest mind."

With a shake of his head Legolas slid from his seat, nodding to Pippin and patting Gimli on the shoulder who looked disappointed but not surprised. "Thank you, but no. There's a family someone asked me to see to." His friends exchanged knowing glances.

"Aye, you've no feelings for her but you do her bidding," Pippin commented slyly.

"Barkeep, no more for the hobbit, he's had far too much already." He grinned as Pippin spluttered indignantly.

Once outside the smile quickly fell from Legolas' face and he drew his cloak tighter around himself before setting off down the streets. He entered the middle and then poorer districts, quickly becoming lost in thoughts. He had thought that when they had spoken last he might provoke Aurelia's temper; that she might curse at him, yell at him, and release all the rage she was surely holding inside. He had hoped to distract her with her anger, to lead her away from Denethor's harmful grasp, and he thought for a moment he had succeeded. Legolas had seen the fire spark in her green eyes, colour had risen in her cheeks making them a sweet, dusky hue, and her whole body had tensed as if she thought to fling herself at him and strike him. But then the ice had entered her heart and he had watched desperately as she became hard and distant once more.

Exhaling sharply, Legolas tried to clear his mind of her debauchery but unbidden images of Aurelia, and then Aurelia and Denethor rose to the surface.

_He stood behind her unlacing the knot at her throat, letting the silvery cloak fall to the floor. She shivered as his aged hand traced from her bare collar up her throat, gathering that wild mane of hair and bringing it to his lips. He breathed in her scent, sighing and-_

Legolas shook his head and tensed his shoulders against the cold wind.

_She was turning to face him, letting her gown slip from her shoulders and fall rumpled at her feet, stepping out of it daintily to take the hand he held out for her. He held her at a distance to feast upon the firm roundness of her breasts; the sensuous dip of her waist; the sweet curve of her hips, but his was not the gentle gaze of a lover. _

Legolas blinked angrily, murmuring beneath his breath.

_He observed the dark plum colouring of her nipples; the tantalizing invite of her cherry mouth and his tongue slid across the crackling tissue of his parchment lips. Under his hungry stare she stood poised, the flesh of her thighs taught and quivering, balancing on the balls of her feet like a deer caught before the wolf. He longed to devour her._

Legolas lengthened his stride, welcoming the dull pain of his soft-shoed feet pounding the uneven cobbles as a distraction, though it was a poor one.

_He pulled on her hand and then she was in his arms, her sweet mouth on his as her elegant fingers peeled away his robe. He grasped at her buttocks, pulling her youthful body against his own wasted frame, and then they were tumbling into the bed. He was kissing her lips, her neck, her breasts, delighting in the feel of her satin skin beneath his gluttonous mouth. His hips swiveled to possess her and his hot breath whispered in her ear: "You're my queen for the night." She gasped and moaned with him, for him, but her eyes never left the ceiling, and they were so empty, so devoid of any emotion it was as if her very soul had left as soon as she had entered his room._

"_Daro!_" Legolas cried out. He stopped in the middle of the street and passed a hand over his eyes to banish the thoughts that plagued him. He quickly realized that it had started to rain and he no longer knew where he was going, or in what direction he was meant to be heading.

Cursing under his breath, Legolas turned and knocked on the nearest door which was answered by a large, bearded man who had to stoop to look out the door.

"Wha' ye wan'? Oh! Er…'scuse me milord, I din' mean no disrespect like," he rumbled, shifting from foot to foot and looking extremely uncomfortable.

"I'm looking for someone: Lady Aurelia's maid Lhoseth, and her son Gemion."

"Well milord, I could be wrong but I think maids and the like usually stay with them they's serve-" he broke off hastily at Legolas' weary sigh. "But ye're in luck, cause Lhoseth's been stayin' at home recently with her husband and her husband's sister, what with their havin' a new babe and the boy bein' sick an' all. S'only a few streets over."

"A few streets over?" Legolas repeated, feeling relieved. He had not relished the long walk back in the rain.

"Aye ye cannae miss it. It's a big house let out te three families. Ye'll ken it by the noise it makes." The man said with a grin.

Legolas nodded and thanked the man, turning and continuing down the street. As he rounded the last corner Legolas understood why the man had given no further description of the home. Stopping outside the door the shrieks, wails, and shouts of alarm, anger and laughter spilled out the dilapidated house and into the street. Shaking his head Legolas knocked on the door, only to have it yanked open by a haggard looking woman with dirty blonde hair and darting eyes.

"Wha' ye- Oh! Beggin' yer pardon milord I-"

Legolas cut her off with a wave of his hand, not wanting to go through the groveling process again.

"I'm looking for Lhoseth," he said and the women frowned, her sharp eyes mistrustful. She obviously wanted to ask more questions, but on second thought leant back and shrieked,

"Lhoooossssseeeeettthhhh! Lhoseth! There's sam wan at the door foh ya!"

Another woman appeared: this one was smaller with sallow cheeks and unwashed hair that fell into her hollow eyes. She looked silently from the blonde woman to Legolas and drew in a shuddering breath.

"Thank you Candthêl." She looked away from the blonde who sneered and sauntered away, casting a curious glance over her shoulder.

Lhoseth dipped a curtsy before turning her wretched eyes to Legolas. She seemed to be a woman given up on hope. "Can I help you my lord?"

"Yes, I heard your son Gemion is ill. I came to try and treat him." He watched disbelief slacken her jaw.

"But who?- Lady Aurelia," She breathed, wonder lighting her tired eyes. "Oh, it must've been she! I only told her and no one else, and here I thought she didn't care! It was her, wasn't it my lord? It was Lady Aurelia?"

"I was asked not to reveal the person's identity," Legolas replied but this seemed to be all the answer she needed.

"Oh, that sweet lady is so modest, so kind! And to think I doubted her! Was angry with her even, and here she's sent me you, oh Valar be praised! Please come in, come in; bless your soul for coming!" Lhoseth seemed to have transformed. There was new energy in her scrawny body as she beckoned him in, singing Aurelia's praises. She even took hold of his arm to steer him to where her son lay.

A man, Legolas presumed to be Lhoseth's husband, looked up as he approached. His face was slack and gray with weariness but hope dawned in his eyes as wife hurriedly explained the situation.

"Please, take my seat," he said quickly, and in his haste to vacate the seat stumbled a bit. Legolas caught and steadied him, smiling grimly in thanks before sitting by the child's bed.

He gazed at the flushed, sweaty face of a boy no older than eight. Gemion's breathing was ragged and labored as it rattled from his chest. Legolas' mind turned back to his time spent with Aragorn, and the different illnesses and herb treatments he had learnt while in his friend's company. His memory quickly picked up the clues that would lead to a diagnosis: the boy's temperature, his breathing, his pulse, and Legolas set about to treating him. The boy would remain still for the most part as Legolas worked but every so often he would toss weakly, kicking a limb, mumbling deliriously, though even this seemed to drain what little energy he had left.

Legolas sat back and turned to Gemion's parents who seemed to be holding their breath. He reached into a purse kept on his belt and drew out several herbs, placing them in Lhoseth's shaking hands.

"Crush up these roots to extract their milk and give it to him after every meal. Finely chop these leaves and the stem of this herb and mix them together in a boiling pot. Do you have honey?" When they shook their heads Legolas reached into his money purse and pressed a gold coin into Lhoseth's other hand. "This should be more than enough to buy milk and honey. Heat these up and have him drink them as often as you can. That should break up the tar in his lungs. Keep him warm, lots of blankets and wrap up heated bricks and place them at his sides to help him sweat the sickness out. Remember to change the sheets as often as you can."

Lhoseth nodded quickly, a stunned look on her face. Her husband took Legolas' hand as he rose from the seat and shook it hard.

"Thank ye. Thank ye," he murmured thickly, his filmy blue eyes shimmering. Legolas nodded to him, and smiled at Lhoseth who beamed back.

"He should recover, but he will need lots of rest, clean air and quiet. I understand you live with two other families? I will go explain the situation and ask for their help in the matter. If there are any problems please contact me immediately."

Legolas turned to climb the rickety staircase to the landing when the shattering scream of a Nazgul echoed from outside. Spinning, the elf bolted out of the house, following the desperate wails of men down the maze of streets until he arrived near the gate. Soldiers along the city walls were uniformly loosing arrows at the Nazgul, which screamed once more before swooping back over the black mass of Sauron's army.

"What's happened here?" Legolas demanded, grabbing the shoulder of the nearest soldier.

"It's my Lord Faramir. His unit was destroyed but a few of his men managed to pull him onto a horse and get him back to Minas Tirith. They don't think he'll live to see the morning though." Tears slid down the man's weathered cheeks, clinging to the stubble on his chin before falling to the ground.

The cacophony of wretchedly frightened and angry men caught Legolas' attention and he watched the citizens of Gondor spill out onto the street. Their despairing shrieks filled the air as four horsemen fought through the crowds. One figure hung limp over his horse's neck, and the people converged about him, patting and pulling on his armour as if to wake him from his state of near death, only falling back when a soldier's horse reared suddenly.

"They're coming!" A voice on the walls shrieked suddenly. "Sauron's forces are moving: they're planning to attack! Warn the Steward! Defend the walls!" The watchman's voice caused another flurry of frenzied activity and somewhere in the distance a bell began to toll, it's desperate peals filling the air.

Legolas raced up the steps and to the wall, his heart shuddering to a stop as he saw the roiling masses of orcs that thundered outside Gondor's walls. His sharp eyes picked up movement by one of their towers and a great flaming missile was flung through the air to smash against the eastern section of the wall. A second missile was loaded, and Legolas' eyes widened as he saw the catapult aim towards the gate. Time slowed to be counted by the suddenly thunderous sound of his heart beating inside his chest. _A-live, a-live a-live_, it seemed to plead. With his elfin eyes sharpened by the rush of adrenaline, Legolas watched an orc wave its meaty arm in the direction of the gate –its gnarled finger seemed to single him out amongst the crowd of men. _Alive, alive, alivealivealive…_ The flaming missile was loosed, and Legolas felt a beautiful sense of detachment envelope him.

The world erupted into chaos.


	5. In the Shadow of the Valley of Death

**Please read:**

First off I'd like to start by apologizing for the delay in posting the fifth chapter. Easter weekend was pretty busy for me what with family and college finals drawing near. I would have actually liked to wait a few more days to perfect this chapter, but if I did I wasn't sure how long it would take as I don't have a lot of free time at the moment.

Secondly, I was extremely disappointed that chapter four didn't get a single review. I put a lot of time and effort into that chapter: writing it and then editing and reworking it, and I really enjoyed working on it and had hoped that others would enjoy it as well. The number of viewings was high but there was no feedback which makes me think that if a reader can't be bothered to review it's because they can't be bothered about the story. That leads me to believe that The Emerald Courtier is lacking in something, whether it's that the characters aren't believable, there isn't enough action, or the story is just generally not good. I'm beginning to feel at a loss as to how to improve my writing and the story, and impress/draw you, the reader, in. As with some pieces of writing, I may just have to start from scratch, though I seriously hope this is not the case.

That being said thank you to the few people who alerted my story and the one who favourited it – you keep my inspiration from dwindling.

-Periodic

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**Chapter Five: ****In the Shadow of the Valley of Death**

"_**With Atë by his side come hot from hell, shall in these confines with a monarch's voice cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war."**_

_**William Shakespeare – "Julius Caesar" Act III Scene I**_

Aurelia slipped from Denethor's chamber and padded along the halls. She moved quickly but calmly, her posture rigid and her chin high – as if this formal demeanor would make up for her shameful acts. Aurelia had only just reached her door when the sound of an explosion shocked the air. Spinning she flew to one of the windows in time to see the destruction of several buildings near the Eastern wall. Even from her high up position in the citadel she could hear the echoing screams.

Aurelia stumbled back from the window and crossed the hall to enter her bedroom, jamming the lock in place behind her. Her belief in the added security that a simple metal device would bring was false and irrational, but all reason was lost on her as more explosions from the city shattered the silence. She paced from wall to wall, stopping to sit on the bed only to leap up again and continue her agitated movements. She jumped every time she heard the dull thud of crumbling stone, and when pounding footsteps raced by her door Aurelia pressed herself against the opposite wall. She held her breath for several long minutes until she was sure the footsteps had passed her by and only then she realized that it was likely an escort sent to protect Denethor.

Oh God, was it possible the enemy had already breached the wall? Were they already now swarming the streets? a teeming mass of grotesque, fleshy bodies with gaping mouths and bloodthirsty eyes.

Terror filled Aurelia as she imagined hordes of orcs slaughtering their way up Gondor's streets until the white stones were slick with crimson blood.

"Wait. Wait," she called out hoarsely, fumbling with the wretched lock on her door and bolting from her room. She ran down the ornate halls, skidding around corners and slipping slightly on the polished floor.

She spotted a guard ushering other nobles down the halls and Aurelia grabbed frantically at his arm.

"Please! Please tell me what's happening?"

"Everything's fine my lady-"

"Horseshit," she snarled, her long fingers clinging to his leather jerkin like talons. "I saw them strike the wall. I demand to know what is going on!" She raised her voice imperiously but he must have seen the desperation in her eyes, as he drew her aside and began to whisper hastily.

"Sauron's army has attacked, they're focusing on the Eastern wall but it seems only to be a distraction as another force attacks the gates. That is all I know my lady, now please we are evacuating the area and moving you all to a safe place. I assure you, you will be well protected."

Her green eyes searched his face and she nodded eventually. Aurelia hurried to join the other nobles and was immediately swept up in the jostling, pushing crowd. They flowed out into the back streets and Aurelia gasped, seeing dark columns of smoke spiral from the Eastern part of the city. A hand pushed at her back and she stumbled forward, grabbing onto the back of a woman's robe to keep herself from falling.

Shouts and screams filled the air and Aurelia was aware of being herded into one of the great store houses. A small pitiful wail made her look down and she saw a street urchin with tears running down her soot streaked face looking about wildly.

"This church is filled with street filth," a surprised voice snarled.

"Well, I for one am certainly not going to stand for this! They'll have to go elsewhere. Tell that soldier there that these poor people will simply have to go elsewhere. I refuse to mix with them, it is utterly barbaric. Why look at that one there, it looks like it has never seen a lick of water in its life." The outraged voice belonged to an elderly woman with curling grey hair and a small button nose who had fixed her disgusted gaze on the small child between herself and Aurelia.

There were several cries of, "here, here!" and "preposterous!" mingled with the quieter grumbles of "geez'a brek wid ye" and "s'war oot there, wiv nay whaur else tae go".

"They can't leave, they'll die outside." Aurelia raised her voice above the rising tide of complaints.

"Lady Aurelia, surely you must see the irrationality of this communal sanctuary."

Aurelia's hand itched to slap the superior, disgusted look off the older woman's face. Instead she leant around the child, thrusting her face close to the old woman's so that they were almost nose to nose. She stared at her for a moment, green eyes narrowed and glinting with malice, upper lip curling in a dangerous sneer.

A muscle twitched in the woman's cheek and her watery blue eyes darted everywhere, unable to escape Aurelia's hateful gaze. She swallowed several times and attempted to lean away, but the push of the ever-thickening crowd would not allow her to do so.

"If you are so disinclined to adhere to the orders given by our Lord's trusted soldiers, then I suggest, madam, you step outside. I shall like to see how long you last," Aurelia breathed silkily.

The woman swallowed sharply again and stammered out a few syllables but stopped as Aurelia turned her head away in dismissal.

It felt good to have that kind of power, to glean some sort of control out of a chaotic situation – even if that control was only over the whimsical emotions of a foolish old woman. Aurelia felt hot, righteous anger fuel her, making her stand taller. She felt like a queen among commoners and seriously considered stepping up on the nearest crate to deliver a moral rousing speech about how they would make it through this siege. The kind of dramatic speech she remembered loving in Hollywood movies.

But those wonderful, brave feelings abandoned her when another missile crashed into the street outside. Aurelia's voice, raised in a panicked shriek, howled along with the rest of the citizens, noble and impoverished alike. She covered her head with her arms as the walls of the store house shuddered and dust drifted from the ceiling. Turning, Aurelia shoved her way through the crowd, keeping her face and head protected while her elbows jutted out at the sides. Rough hands pushed and pulled her, human claws raking at her exposed skin but she made it at last to one of the walls and followed it to a corner where she sank to the ground.

She shook uncontrollably: her legs, her hands, her lips, which were numbly reciting every prayer she could remember from Sunday school.

Aurelia's darting eyes landed suddenly on a familiar face, and she starred for a moment at the street urchin who must have followed her. The child, a young girl with tangled dirty blonde hair, stood watching Aurelia. Her cheeks were red and stained from her previous tears and now she was still, one small fist raised to her trembling mouth. Gingerly Aurelia reached out to the girl, turning her hand palm up in a universal gesture of peace. Just as hesitantly the girl took her hand and sunk into Aurelia's embrace, curling up on her lap and burrowing her dirty head into her chest.

Aurelia, equally glad of the comfort, crooned softly, rocking the child as best she could. Her sweet-nothing words rose and fell with her voice, repeating and murmuring constantly. At one point she became aware of switching to English, but the little girl showed no sign of upset.

Thoughts of home flooded her: the suburban house with its flowering garden that her Dad had cherished; the beat-up red sedan that her Mama complained often about but secretly loved because it had been the car that Aurelia's father had picked her up in on their first date. Aurelia had been twenty-one when she'd last seen that house, and since then she'd carried in her a secret hope that she might see it once again. It was a wretched, inspiring hope; a painful yearning that made her rise every morning and dragged her through this strange life.

Tears slipped down her cheeks and fell amongst the child's dirty locks as she realized that that day would likely never come. That in all likelihood this store house would become her final resting place and she would be one more ravaged corpse trapped beneath the ruined building. It seemed to only be a matter of time before the next missile struck their sanctuary.

Aurelia's thoughts turned to Boromir, and she wondered if he had been this afraid when facing death. She wondered if he would scoff to see her now, cowering against the wall with a small child in her arms. No wildcat, no fiery temptress, but simply a terrified woman, stripped of her mystery and passion.

She thought of Legolas and their last words. How kind he had been in the face of her rudeness, how distressed by her situation, and she had brushed him off like it was something insignificant. And now he would be on Gondor's wall, fighting for this doomed city.

"Legolas! Gimli! Help!" Through the chaos Aurelia heard a shrill voice cry out. She stared for a moment, turning her head to better catch the sound. The girl in her arms clung tighter to her, sensing her agitation.

"Legolas!" There it was again! Murmuring gently to the child, Aurelia stood up slowly, balancing the girl on her hip as she peered carefully out the window. She was only just able to catch what looked like a child running against the current of flying soldiers, his shrill cries for help falling on deaf ears.

Aurelia hesitated for a moment, knowing that leaving the store house would likely entail death. Another flaming missile struck nearby buildings and the ground quaked, the walls of their sanctuary trembled violently. To stay here could only mean death as well; better to take control of the situation, better to die fighting.

'Like Boromir,' Aurelia thought suddenly, and out of the feverish atmosphere a cool gentle breeze stroked her cheek and whispered through her hair.

Abruptly Aurelia turned to a stout looking woman beside her, her green eyes quickly assessing the figure before she thrust the girl into her arms. The woman caught the child with a stunned look on her face.

"I need you to look after her. Don't let her out of your sight!" Aurelia shouted over the noise and the woman, looking from Aurelia's once richly embroidered robe and golden earrings, to the dirty street urchin, nodded grimly.

The child reached out for Aurelia with a distressed cry, and she took the small hand, leaning forward to kiss the child's forehead. "Be good, be brave," She told her. "Stay with this woman and you'll be just fine. I promise."

Aurelia's mama had once told her never to make a promise to a child that you couldn't keep – or any promise that couldn't be kept for that matter – because they simply wouldn't understand. But it hardly seemed to matter anymore.

Aurelia pushed through the crowd, clawing her way to the front doors where two guards stood. They barred the doors as she reached for them.

"Lady, you can't go out there," one shouted over the noise.

"My friends are out there, I have to!"

"You can't. I'm sorry, it's certain death."

"I have to!" Aurelia cried again, anger fueling her sudden surge of boldness. "They're all I have. I cannot, I will not stay in here while they are in need. Please, I must try to find them!"

One guard looked at the other who continued to stare at Aurelia. "Go then," he said abruptly. "But do not expect to be let back in. Here, take this as well." He unclipped a sheathed dagger from his arsenal of weapons and pressed it into Aurelia's shaking hands.

She looked from the blade to him and felt her resolve strengthen. Nodding, she slipped out the door and into the streets. The sights that awaited her there made her freeze. Everywhere the bodies of men and orc alike lay strewn; some trampled by the Gondorian soldier's who ran for their lives.

Aurelia stood gaping, before adrenaline shocked her into action, and she began looking for the hobbit she knew to be in Denethor's service. She had been there when he'd sworn his fealty to Gondor, when Denethor had sent his surviving son back to Osgiliath, and she had seen the sorrow and regret shimmer in Pippin's eyes.

Aurelia turned down one street and then another, screaming his name as she wove through the men, ducking into alleyways and changing direction when she saw pursuing orcs. She was beginning to lose hope when she saw a small cloaked figure ahead of her.

"Pippin!" She screamed again and he turned suddenly. Seeing her, he bolted to her side instantly. "Where's Legolas and Gimli?"

"I can't find them." Pippin's blue eyes were wide with terror, his small face pinched and furrowed. "My Lady, Denethor has gone mad. He's burning Faramir alive."

Aurelia gasped. "We have no time. Come on!" She grabbed his hand and the two of them raced to the citadel. They dodged through the streets, taking short cuts Aurelia had memorized when she had first arrived in Minas Tirith. Everywhere there was chaos. Blood stained the soot streaked stones, buildings lay in burning ruins. They leapt over fallen men, some of whom cried out for help.

The sound of a horn trumpeted through the air, and Aurelia's steps faltered as she turned towards the source of the noise.

"Rohan calls," Pippin whispered, also stopping to look. They glanced at each other and grinned, turning to sprint again on newly energized limbs.

Pippin soon began to lead the way, retracing the steps Denethor had taken. They stopped outside a large oaken door, gasping for breath.

"Behind this door," Pippin managed to say, and Aurelia nodded, bracing her shoulder against the wood. Pippin followed suit and the pair of them heaved with all their might but to no avail. Distantly the horn of Rohan sounded again, and with every passing second they knew Faramir was closer to death.

Screaming with rage they battered the door, loosing themselves in desperation, and slowly, slowly, it gave way, groaning in protest to their strikes. Pippin ran through first and Aurelia quickly followed.

"Stop this madness!"

Denethor looked up as they entered, his face contorting wildly as he saw Pippin run forward to stop the advancing guards.

"Gandalf's puppet," he spat. "You will not take my son from me!" Grabbing one of the torches from a nearby guard he held it aloft for a moment and then hurled it to his feet with a cry. The pyre erupted in flames, and Denethor smiled triumphantly.

Aurelia dropped the dagger she carried to grab a flag pole and without thinking, used the butt of it to strike Denethor's chest. He fell from the pyre and she hurried to help Pippin drag Faramir to the ground, smothering the flames that burned his clothes.

"No!" Aurelia looked up to see Denethor advancing. "Treacherous whore!" He struck her hard across the face, throwing her to the side. Aurelia put a hand to her lip where his ring had torn the tender flesh. Blood pooled at her fingertips and spilled down her chin.

Denethor was wrestling with Pippin, trying to get at his son and a wild fury was ignited in Aurelia. She bared her bloodstained teeth and grabbed the flag pole, leaping to her feet and clumsily wielding it with a fierce cry. The first strike caught him on the chin, knocking him away from Pippin and Faramir. The second caught him in the stomach, driving the wind from his lungs. She paused as he struggled to his feet, watching as he touched a hand to his bruised face.

Denethor's dark eyes lifted to capture and hold her own, a slow, vicious smile creeping across his mouth. "You'll burn," he said with a laugh. "You'll burn with the rest of them. All of Minas Tirith goes up in flames, and you, my _lady_, will be cast into the eighth circle of hell!"

With a yell Aurelia swung the pole, striking Denethor hard on the chest. He stumbled backwards into the pyre, and with a snarl struggled upwards. A low groan was just audible and Denethor stopped, watching as Faramir slowly opened his eyes.

"My son." The preciously spoken words were whispered from Denethor who gazed at Faramir with wonder and love. Flames licked up his oil soaked robes, and his face convulsed in agony as he was engulfed. Aurelia shielded her eyes from the sight of the burning man who stumbled away from the burning wood and ran outside to his inevitable death.

The flag pole slipped from her numb fingers and she dropped to her knees beside Pippin, who gripped Faramir's shirt in a white knuckled grasp.

"My Lord," Aurelia called softly to him, touching a cold hand to his hot cheek. "Faramir. Stay with us, you will be safe soon." She turned to Pippin who looked at her with a sort of expectancy – for what she didn't know.

"The city is overrun by now; this citadel is the safest place for people. We have to move them up here." Aurelia was surprised by how calm her voice seemed: slightly short of breath but otherwise quite detached. As if knocking a man into a raging fire and witnessing his death held little significance, but she couldn't think of those things now.

Pippin nodded quickly. "You look after him," He said to the four guards who had gathered around them. "Get him a bed and rest for now."

Aurelia got to her feet, stooping to pick up the dagger she had dropped. She turned to Pippin who nodded again, resting a hand on the pommel of his small sword. Smiling, she moved ahead to slip out the door and once again they were running through the city.

It seemed the bodies of orcs had tripled, and soldiers that had once run for their lives now turned to give chase to the fleeing monsters.

"Pippin! We're winning!" Aurelia cried, and Pippin gave a whoop of joy.

Every civilian they passed they urged them on to the citadel. They worked quickly, stopping often, and at last they reached the store house. Smoking ruins were all that remained and Aurelia clutched at her chest to see that some people had not made it out.

"Aurelia!"

She turned at Pippin's call and was flooded with relief, seeing that most of the refugees had left in time, hiding in various places about the market. Amongst their midst was a familiar stout woman and a dirty blonde child. Dodging the soldiers, Aurelia ran to them.

"You have to get to the citadel," She commanded. "Keep close to the walls. Run from any orcs you see and whatever you do, do not stop moving! You must reach higher ground. There are a few guards left up there that will protect you. Go! Now!"

Aurelia and Pippin worked tirelessly, pulling people who had been trapped by fallen debris, yelling until they were hoarse.

She helped one man lift a splintered timber that had fallen and crushed another woman's leg, working together until she was free. The man turned to help the woman to her feet but his eyes caught sight of something over Aurelia's shoulder and he screamed. On instinct Aurelia jumped away as the man fled, and a crimson stained blade flashed by her, slaughtering the woman they had freed only moments before. Aurelia stumbled backwards as hot blood splattered across her front. Her hands groped wildly for the dagger she had tucked into a pocket of her robes only to find it had fallen out.

The great beast turned its head in her direction slowly. It sniffed once, twice, and wiped the blood from its face, smiling lazily at Aurelia.

"All alone my pretty," it cooed, advancing slowly on her. "Yes, yes all alone."

"Please," Aurelia's breath caught in her chest as she gibbered unintelligibly, "Please have mercy. Don't kill me. Oh God, I b-beg you, mercy. Please mercy."

"What's that pretty love? Mercy? It don't exist. Only pain n'hunger here and I'm feelin' ravenous."

She didn't have time to draw breath to scream as it raised its cruel blade high and struck at her body.

* * *

Atë: The Greek goddess of evil and misfortune

"Geez'a brek wid ye" translates to: "Give us a break would you" (in case you had trouble understanding the thick accent lol.)


	6. Don't Leave Me Here Alone

Thank you so so much to all the people who reviewed, you fair made my week! The editing of this chapter has been a little hasty as finals are drawing ever nearer, and it's making it hard for me to find time for writing.

Just a heads up there are two chapters left in this story – remember it's only a short story! I am considering doing a prequel though, but I can't say when it'll be ready to be posted. At any rate I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

-Periodic

* * *

**Chapter Six: Don't Leave Me Here Alone**

"_**And it's not a cry that you hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah"**_

_**Jeff Buckley – "Hallelujah"**_

The missile was headed for them, arcing beautifully through the night sky like a vengeful angel. Legolas watched it ascend the heavens, marking its path towards his doom. All around him men were scattering, running for their lives, but he stood transfixed. His heart swelled till he thought it would burst, his blood was on fire and it sang through his veins. Never before had he felt more alive than in this moment before his death.

A force like no other tackled him from the side, knocking him off his feet. Legolas' peace was shattered as his back struck the top step and inertia carried him down several more stairs. The small, hairy creature that had tackled him followed him down in a similar fashion and they landed with a painful thump on the ground.

Legolas was dimly aware of dust from crushed stone and mortar filling his lungs as he coughed violently, struggling to draw a breath. He pushed the creature off his chest and rolled on to his side, heaving and dragging at the air, clutching his back with one hand and pulling out his blade with the other.

"Do ye have a death wish?" A familiar voice bellowed in his ear, choked off by ragged breathing. "Tell me, are ye mad? Is there madness in your family?"

"Gimli…Gimli…" Legolas waved his hand vaguely in his friend's direction, sitting up with a grimace and stretching until his back cracked. He paused to survey the ruddy colouring of the dwarf's face, and a broad smile stretched across his lips. "You saved my life."

"Aye! Because you're too busy starin' at the bleedin' stars! Bloody elves and their bloody obsession with bloody nature!"

Legolas' smile broadened for a moment before he lifted his eyes to survey his surroundings. The fall had left him disorientated, and he was slow to acknowledge the destruction caused by the missile. It had crashed overtop the wall, obliterating several staircases and showering the streets with debris. From his sitting position Legolas picked up the broken shaft of one of his arrows. He glanced wordlessly at Gimli who was already up on his feet and shaking his head.

"There's naught time fer greavin'. Save what ye can and help hold the gate." He helped Legolas to his feet, pausing to ensure that he was unharmed before racing to the unit of soldiers gathered around the bombarded gates, shouting encouragement along the way.

Legolas salvaged what arrows he could, hurrying to join the swelling ranks. The men quivered with fear, and at each strike against the heavy gates there was a wave of shock and terror that swept through them.

"Hold your place men of Gondor," Gimli growled from the front of the ranks. "No matter what comes through them gates, hold your place."

Legolas notched an arrow into his bow, pulling the string back until his knuckles brushed his ear. He let his mind empty of all emotions and thoughts, concentrating on slowing his breathing to a steady pull of inhalation and smooth exhalation. He felt calm and detached from the situation yet still in control. The deep groan of the gates slowly giving way to the onslaught from outside no longer stirred his heart into a frenzy, and he waited coolly for the chaos of war to ensue.

* * *

"Eighteen! Nineteen!"

"Twenty-five!" Legolas shouted back and Gimli laughed.

"I'm gaining on you! Twenty!" He sang as his battle axe crunched into the skull of a nearby orc.

The fighting had moved from the wall to the streets, making battle hard as the quarters were close. Legolas had run out of arrows long ago, and now relied on his knives to deal the damage. Gimli, who was ahead of him, swung his axe to cleave any orcs that stepped too close.

"Stand and fight!" Gimli roared at the fleeing human soldiers. "Fight! Fight for your city! Fight for your lives!"

They were being pushed back up the street and orcs continued to pour in from the alleyways. It ceased to be a battle then but a desperate grapple for life, with men shrinking in the face of brutality. They were losing hope, and the orcs could see it. Some had even given up the battle to feed on the flesh of fallen humans.

The black shadow of the Nazgul swept over the white city, its heart-stopping scream shattering the will of the men. Everywhere it flew the ranks of men broke and scattered; many of them losing all reason in the frenzy of panic and bolting into the blood thirsty hordes of orcs.

Above the cacophony of screaming creatures and ringing blades a horn call trumpeted through the air. It resonated through the city once, twice, three times and a cry went up from the men of Gondor.

"Rohan calls," Legolas said, smiling, and with renewed vigor the once running men turned to fight. Battling was hard, with many alleys branching into the main streets attack was possible from every angle, and the avenues pulsed with the desperate crush of bodies, orc and man alike, fighting for survival. The silver of the men's swords clashed against the dark blades of Mordor, and they screamed their defiance in the face of evil. Slowly, steadily, they drove back Sauron's forces, causing the foul beasts to rout and separate.

A ray of light split the night's shadows and the Nazgul's blood curdling cry sounded again as it wheeled about and departed for the field's outside of the city. The men cheered again, hope and fervor shining madly in their eyes as they fought harder than before.

"Gandalf!" Gimli shouted with a laugh. "And Aragorn'll be with him."

They pushed the brutes back into the market place that had been hit hard by the firing missiles – one store house lay in ruins, other sections still burned freely. Some of the orcs turned to flee, while others still fought on more fiercely.

Legolas stepped forward smoothly, knife flicking up and around to slit the throat of an orc, but blood gurgled from its mouth before he had even touched it. As the corpse fell to the ground, Pippin stood over it, small blade stained with orc blood.

Legolas stood stunned for a moment. "Ha! Gimli, we have a new competitor!"

Pippin grinned up at him, his small chest swelling with pride.

"We're moving the people up to the citadel where it's safer. I think this is the last lot." Pippin said, indicating the small group of huddled civilians that crowded around him. "I'll take them to make sure they get there unharmed."

Legolas nodded, smiling at the hobbit who, at that moment, was a leader among men. As Pippin took off up the streets, Legolas paused, shouting after him.

"We?" But the hobbit was out of hearing distance.

Legolas turned back at Gimli's warning shout and saw three orcs preparing to rush them. Over their shoulders he saw an orc advancing on a lone woman. Her face was frozen in terror, green eyes wide as the orc raised its dark blade high to strike.

_No. No!_

"Aurelia!" Legolas roared, fending off the three orcs that surrounded him.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aurelia take a hasty step backward, stumbling over a corpse and twisting as she fell to the ground. The twisting motion caused her body to be thrown to the side, and the orc's blade sang harmlessly past her shoulders, slicing off a lock of hair.

Grimly Legolas focused his attention on his enemies, quickly depositing one with a flick of his blade. Another one fell clawing at Gimli's throwing axe which protruded from its back. Legolas faced off against the last one, dimly aware of Aurelia scrabbling on the ground for something.

Legolas palmed the two knives in his hands, watching his own attacker carefully. With a roar the orc moved forward and Legolas skipped to the side, sliding one knife between its ribs and spinning round the orc's body to deliver the last blow at the base of its neck. Pulling his blades out Legolas turned without a backwards glance and sprinted towards Aurelia.

She was back on her feet, dagger in hand. Legolas propelled himself forward as he saw her face off against the creature, terror written plainly across her dirty face, and time slowed to be counted by dull heartbeats as the orc raised its sword. She clumsily jumped out of the way of the orc's wild swing and with a feral scream leapt on him, stabbing her blade into its chest and stomach, her free hand clawing at its face. The orc staggered backwards and crashed to the ground, pulling Aurelia with it. She landed on top of it, screeching and stabbing at the corpse repeatedly. Its limbs were tangled round her and Aurelia struggled desperately to free herself, staggering to her feet only to double over and retch violently. Legolas saw the blade, slick with blood, slip from her fingers. Her richly embroidered dressing gown was torn to reveal her once snow white nightgown underneath, now streaked with ash, soot, and the black of orc blood.

"Aurelia," he called. "Aurelia."

As she righted herself Aurelia turned slowly and he saw her empty eyes study his face for a moment before recognition lit their green depths. Her bleeding lips formed his name, though no sound came at first, and then she was staggering towards him and he ran to her, roughly pulling her to him.

She buried her face in his chest, her muffled words choked off by her wracking sobs.

"Where were you? Where were you, you bastard? I thought-I thought-dead for sure! And-and I killed a man. I murdered-I-I-pushed Denethor back into the fire, but he was k-killing Faramir and I didn't ha-have a choice, and he burned, oh God, he burned-I killed him. And this orc-there was a woman- and it should have been me, Legolas it should have been _me!_" The rest was lost to him as she switched to her mother tongue, her words flowing fast and urgent.

Legolas rested his cheek near her temple, stroking her frizzy curls and holding her close while the victory horn of Gondor sounded. At length her crying slowed and he pulled away to take her battered, tear streaked face in his hands.

"You're safe with me," he said firmly and was satisfied when she nodded. He gently wiped the wetness from her cheeks, and removed his cloak to put it around her shoulders.

"Come, let's see you healed." Legolas turned to Gimli who had made his way back into the market after pursuing the orcs. "Will you find Aragorn? I need to do this."

Gimli nodded shortly. "Aye, I'll tell'em."

Legolas smiled grimly and then wrapped an arm around Aurelia's waist, and in her shell-shocked state she let him lead her up to the citadel and back to her room. She let him hunt for the fur-lined nightgown that was worn only during winter, let him wrap it around her shoulders, and let him guide her to the bed where she sat so he could tend to her wounds.

From a small flask at his waist, Legolas soaked a cloth and gently dabbed at her split lip. He murmured soothingly as he worked but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. He could see that her eyes held the blank, far-seeing quality of someone in shock, and her skin, once cleaned of soot and dirt, had lost its bronze glow.

He cleaned and bandaged her hands and feet, which had suffered the worst of the burns and cuts. His medical supplies used up, Legolas helped tuck her into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. The fact that she allowed this all to happen so placidly and without a word worried him a great deal. Her eyes continued to the stare at the ceiling, and seemed empty in the flickering candlelight, her skin slack and gray. Legolas reached forward to gently brush the hair from her face, but she showed no recognition of his touch.

"Sleep now, Aurelia," he said softly, though he got no response. Sighing, he turned to go, resolved to find a proper healer for her once he had seen Aragorn and the others.

"Don't go." The softly whispered words were hoarse, and Legolas glanced back to see her watching him. He noticed suddenly how sunken her face seemed, how tiny she appeared in the expansive bed and it seemed a miracle that the pile of blankets didn't crush her. Aurelia's frailness startled him and worriedly he drew back to her bedside.

"Aurelia," Legolas murmured quietly, at a loss of how to help her. Apart from the burns on her hands and feet, she suffered no outward wounds, and Legolas' knew the agony in her green eyes was not from physical pain.

Aurelia withdrew her bandaged hand from beneath the blankets and reached for him.

"Don't leave me," she implored again. Legolas took her hand gently, hesitating a moment before he nodded his head and bent to lightly brush his lips against the fabric that covered her hand. He stood and crossed to the other side of the bed; lying down on top of the covers and easing himself close beside her. Without a word Legolas put an arm around her trembling body and she turned to rest her head on his shoulder, a low, mournful groan escaping her lips.

While the people of Gondor filled the streets, singing and dancing and weeping for joy, they held onto each other, silently sharing their grief.


End file.
